


Living Proof At My Fingertips

by coloursflyaway



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Hugs, M/M, Murder-Suicide, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4689956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, they fall together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living Proof At My Fingertips

Francis’ blood looks black in the moonlight and Hannibal takes a moment to admire the way it still seems to gleam and glisten on Will’s skin. It’s slick and tempting, makes him want to reach out and taste – the essence of the Red Dragon, but most importantly of his own creation, of Will Graham, the man who managed to surpass all his expectations.  
Hannibal knows how he would taste, the salt of his sweat, the copper of his blood, the lingering bittersweetness of both their affections.

And maybe that’s why he doesn’t reach out and pulls him in , licks up a broad stripe from Will’s neck to his blood-smeared cheek, instead waits for the other to reach for him. Because that is what Will will always do, has been doing even since before they met, reaching out for someone to make him more than he was before.  
Will has wanted to watch the Dragon change him, and yet it is Hannibal who got to watch his Will transform.

The gunshot wound in his stomach aches when he helps the other up, drags him to his feet again, but Hannibal ignores it just like he ignored the branding, being beaten and stabbed and wounded, all in favour of Will’s hand in his. Just like the blood, his eyes are dark with adrenaline, with lust.  
He has always known, but now Will knows too, has seen what Hannibal had planned for them, right from the start.

Will stumbles against him, weak and yet so strong, and this time, Hannibal reaches out to steady him, a hand at his hips and Will grasping at his biceps, fingers curling and for a moment, Hannibal is captivated. It’s like the other’s entire being is laid open, vulnerable and oh so precious; all he needs to do is to take what Will is offering.  
“See?”, he breathes out, his voice more of Garret Jacob Hobbs’ hiss than his own; Will shivers and Hannibal grasps his hips harder. They are so close now that he can smell the blood on Will’s breath, and the other is still swaying closer, as if he cannot stay away. “This is all I ever wanted for you, Will.”

The other’s eyes are as bright as the moon and Hannibal has to look away, blinded by him. Blood is slick on his fingers and thrumming underneath Will’s skin; he doesn’t think before he mutters, “For both of us.”  
There is a pause, one which Hannibal doesn’t understand until he looks up at the other, the teacup he thought he had shattered for good, but that always found the strength to pull itself back together. Will is waiting for him, even though he is bleeding out in Hannibal’s arms, waiting for their eyes to meet until he answers. “It’s beautiful.”

His voice is awed and broken, hoarse and Hannibal knows that every word he speaks must be torture, but it’s like watching a new sun being born, a phoenix rising from its ashes. Five years have passed, three of them locked up and waiting, and Hannibal feels the weight of every second in the look Will gives him.  
They’re both breathing too heavily, and for a maddening second, Hannibal sees all the futures they could have, sees them dying here, sees them escaping, sees himself behind bars and Will gloating, sees them both being tied to an electric chair. None of them seems more likely than another; the decision is Will’s to make.

And he makes it, no matter if he realises he’s doing so or not, when he curls his fingers into the fabric of Hannibal’s shirt, when he falls and melts against Hannibal. The other’s head seems too heavy, so he drops it against Hannibal’s chest, lets him support it, his limbs too uncoordinated, so he grounds them by stepping closer, by wrapping his arms closer around Hannibal’s neck.  
Like this, Will might hear his heartbeat, might feel the blood still gushing from his wounds, but none of it matters any longer.

Time could have come to an end, the Earth might have withered around them and stopped its journey and for the first time, Misha stops screaming. The clock stops ticking, the quiet stream runs its course and takes them with it, the feeling sweet and quiet and cool when it seeps into his mind.  
It’s a peaceful kind of bliss, a serenity he has never known before.  
Just like this, everything seems to have fallen into place.

One of his arms stays wrapped around Will’s hip, drawing him closer, and when the other really lets himself fall, Hannibal rests his head on Will’s, leans in as much as he can. There has been too much space between them for too long.  
Hannibal breathes him in, feels them mingling deep within, every inhale, exhale, inhale fusing them together until even Hannibal cannot tell them apart anymore.

Will’s arm comes to wrap around his neck, and Hannibal knows that he has mistook choice the other made before Will moves even another inch. He’s warm in Hannibal’s arms, warm and alive and oh so precious; Hannibal wants to break him once more and put him back together, wants Will to do the same to him just to see what the other would change. He wants to pull back and shove and he wants to step away and let Will push, wants to see if there is another way even if he knows that everything has always led up to this.

In the end, he does nothing, because he has left the choice to Will, just lets his eyes slip closed, drowns them both in the night and feels. Feels Will’s muscles tense under skin and fabric, feels his breath coming in gasps, the warm blood soaking through his shirt. Tastes the blood the other has smeared on his lips, smells his shampoo, his sweat, whispers Will’s name a hundred times in his mind.

He doesn’t fight it when Will pushes them over the edge, doesn’t open his eyes, just wraps his arms tighter around the man that fell for, because of, with.

 

 

(Will feels the air rush past them, cold and harsh, feels Hannibal’s arms around him, as strong and unyielding as always. The other’s heart is beating steadily in his chest, and it’s the only sound Will can still focus on, the only one which matters.  
This was always going to be the end of them, he sees it clearly now, just wonders if Hannibal has known all along.  
They fall, and it’s the first time Will has felt safe in years.

The sea might be cold, but he doesn’t feel it. Hannibal’s arms are warm.)

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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